On Saturday I went to a friend's wedding. It's the 6th wedding I've been to in the last 5 years. It was a small, intimate, outdoor wedding of family and close friends. Though the forecast threatened scattered thunderstorms, the weather couldn't have been more perfect.
I sat (as I usually do) next to friends I knew in undergrad - some of them married, many of us single. My friend sitting next to me remarked, "Every time I come to a wedding, I feel like I have to re-examine the course of my life." And I sympathize with him 100%. It seems like friend after friend has been getting married, and where am I? Where are the rest of us? Even if it's not entirely true, it feels as though we're lagging behind in "life progress." It's rather unsettling at times. I'm so far from marriage that I can't even see it in the distant horizon.
At least my other friends (married couple) spoke the truth that as we get older, our dating pool only increases (formula: minimum age of dating partner = 1/2 your age + 7).
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The following day I met up with another friend (also married) on my way back from the wedding. We chatted for a while on politics and catching up and all that. He always relished my medical stories, especially the gory ones, haha. His wife was a trooper too with my descriptions.
After a while when it was time for me to go, he gave me the location of his brother's grave, the same brother I had considered one of my closest (and longest) friends. It felt strange driving to his grave. I found it rather easily.
There I stood on the road, looking between two small stone walls along rows of graves. The sun was bright, the sky blue, and the trees and grass green. At the far end stood a statue of Martin Luther. And there I saw his sign, a temporary placement for his headstone not yet finished. Standing at the foot of his grave, I could see it was a recent-ish burial as the grass had not fully grown in the spot. I had brought no gifts, no tokens. I saw a single black feather and placed that under the sign.
And I began to say my last words. It was weird, talking to no one but the breeze. I wasn't even sure of what to say, my ramblings barely coherent even to myself. And then I teared up as I admitted that I was bi, something I never got around to telling him while he was still alive. The words choked, stuck in my throat as I said, "I know I never told you, but I thought you should know . . . I'm bi, probably more gay than straight but I'm working on figuring it out. I know you would've been okay with it, you would've helped me figure it out in your own way, but there's no way to know now, eh?"
It was awkward, but what does that say? What does that mean? That even now, even talking to no one but the air, those words would be so damn hard to say? I suppose I really haven't changed too much since the beginning of this blog. I don't see an endpoint.
Having too much time makes idle thoughts wander, too much time to re-examine and yet still do nothing.
At least my other friends (married couple) spoke the truth that as we get older, our dating pool only increases (formula: minimum age of dating partner = 1/2 your age + 7).
-----
The following day I met up with another friend (also married) on my way back from the wedding. We chatted for a while on politics and catching up and all that. He always relished my medical stories, especially the gory ones, haha. His wife was a trooper too with my descriptions.
After a while when it was time for me to go, he gave me the location of his brother's grave, the same brother I had considered one of my closest (and longest) friends. It felt strange driving to his grave. I found it rather easily.
There I stood on the road, looking between two small stone walls along rows of graves. The sun was bright, the sky blue, and the trees and grass green. At the far end stood a statue of Martin Luther. And there I saw his sign, a temporary placement for his headstone not yet finished. Standing at the foot of his grave, I could see it was a recent-ish burial as the grass had not fully grown in the spot. I had brought no gifts, no tokens. I saw a single black feather and placed that under the sign.
And I began to say my last words. It was weird, talking to no one but the breeze. I wasn't even sure of what to say, my ramblings barely coherent even to myself. And then I teared up as I admitted that I was bi, something I never got around to telling him while he was still alive. The words choked, stuck in my throat as I said, "I know I never told you, but I thought you should know . . . I'm bi, probably more gay than straight but I'm working on figuring it out. I know you would've been okay with it, you would've helped me figure it out in your own way, but there's no way to know now, eh?"
It was awkward, but what does that say? What does that mean? That even now, even talking to no one but the air, those words would be so damn hard to say? I suppose I really haven't changed too much since the beginning of this blog. I don't see an endpoint.
Having too much time makes idle thoughts wander, too much time to re-examine and yet still do nothing.